


Eurydice and Mephistopheles

by mechanicaljewel



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2148666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicaljewel/pseuds/mechanicaljewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian guides Victor out of his darkness and into his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eurydice and Mephistopheles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverminetohold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/gifts).



> Loosely inspired by this quote: “If you live in the dark a long time and the sun comes out, you do not cross into it whistling. There's an initial uprush of relief at first, then a profound dislocation. My old assumptions about how the world works are buried, yet my new ones aren't yet operational.There's been a death of sorts, but without a few days in hell, no resurrection is possible.” ― Mary Karr
> 
> To neverminetohold, I'm sorry this is so short, but it might please you to know I have been inspired to write more of this pairing!

Dorian had met the young doctor coming out of Sir Malcolm Murray's house while he sat outside debating whether to go in and ask the august man if he knew of any further details of Vanessa's sudden disappearance from his bed that night and subsequent rejection. From a courteous exchange of pleasantries, Dorian gathered that this Dr. Frankenstein had been involved in caring for Vanessa during her apparent illness. This was the first Dorian had heard of any illness, and so he offered to take him out to dinner, planning to pry further information out of him throughout the course of the meal. _In vino veritas_ , after all. But as dinner progressed and wine flowed, Dorian became increasingly charmed and entranced by Victor himself.

Victor reminded him of Basil in a way; despite the utterly unromantic nature of his profession, there was an artistic soul underneath, even more profound than his love of poetry would suggest. Like Basil, Victor had the melancholy air of one who pursues perfection in his daily work, knowing he will never attain it but also knowing it would be impossible to give up.

Dorian wondered what Victor was trying to perfect, and if it would be as devilish as Basil’s creation.

Victor, he decided, would be his new amusement. He needed something to take his mind off of the sting of Miss Ives’s rejection, after all. He would take his time coaxing out Victor’s dark secrets that he was so desperate to hide, which would make each little reveal all the more delicious. And once Dorian had collected every piece of Victor’s soul, then and only then would he claim his body.

He hoped it would not take too long, virgins were always a treat.

"Whatever could be on your mind," Dorian asked him, "that could possibly be worth etching that crease in your brow permanently?"

Victor looked morosely at him, "We cannot all go through life with such carefree decadence as you, Mr. Gray."

"Dorian, please," he said. Establishing such intimacy early was vital to these endeavors. "And though I'm sure you mean to sound disapproving, you cannot hide your envy from me." Dorian smiled and raised an eyebrow at Victor.

Victor looked into Dorian's eyes for a few moments, as if he were searching for something. He then sighed and replied, "I suppose I am envious. To careen wildly towards destruction, as you seemingly do, but remain so unaffected, so unmarked. So full of life..."

Dorian smiled to himself. Maybe someday he would show Victor where he bore the ravages of time and debauchery, but not today. Victor's last comment confirmed Dorian's suspicions: his secrets were intricately entwined with death. Death itself did seem to fill the air around him, like Ethan's late, lamented whore, though her morbid companion came from within. No, Victor's was not a hovering spectre of doom, but instead like the acrid scent of mothballs that clung to one's clothes no matter how much one tried to wash and air them. Given his profession, Dorian supposed he could double as a resurrection man, but mere grave-robbing would not account for his deep-seated melancholy.

When a man's secrets com from deep in the underworld, that is where one must go to find them out, Dorian mused to himself, though it is much easier when the man is a compliant, if not completely willing, guide. He proffered the bottle of their post-dinner port. Victor allowed his glass to be refilled, but Dorian stayed his hand when he went to take a sip. "My first secret," Dorian offered conspiratorially, "Is to engage my senses to their fullest extent." He removed his hand from Victor's and nodded gently at him.

Victor felt slightly unnerved by Dorian's touch and instruction but nodded back. He tentatively brought the glass to his lips, and as the wine filled his mouth, his eyes fluttered shut. The syrupy sweetness in his mouth seemed to flood his entire body, followed by the slow burn of the alcohol. By God, had he so cut himself off from the living that he had forgotten how to experience the most simple of pleasures? When he went to take his second mouthful, he made sure to take a deep, full breath and let its heady scent tickle his nostrils. And after only three sips of port, Victor felt more intoxicated than he had in months, no amount of alcohol nor morphia had been able to induce the heady warmth he felt coursing through him now.

Dorian took great pride and pleasure in the way Victor's tongue slid across his lips unconsciously. When Victor at long last opened his eyes again, there was a fire there that Dorian had no way of knowing had not been there for some time. (There had been a spark at Proteus's birth, which glowed for a few days until his creation had been cruelly and literally ripped from this world. His firstborn saw to it that it stayed snuffed out ever since, though even as he thought it, Victor knew it was unfair to pin all the blame on that monster.) This feeling that threatened to overwhelm him, Victor pondered, must have been how the first men to whom Prometheus brought his gift felt then. Disorientated. Unworthy. Frightened. And hungry for more. It was the same feeling he had felt the first time he cracked the spine of an anatomy text. Would it lead down yet another path of destruction? Or could Dorian guide him through, help him sidestep all consequences along this path, as he himself appeared to do?

Victor exhaled heavily, then inquired, "And what is your second secret, Dorian?"

"If I told you, then it would not be a secret anymore, would it?" Dorian teased. "And you still owe me a secret, for my first. Quid pro quo, and all that."

Victor shuddered inwardly. "My secrets are dull," he lied. "I keep them only to bring some excitement to my life."

"Those are the secrets I love most of all," Dorian effused. "Solve one mystery for me at least. What are you trying to perfect?"

"Life," Victor answered without even thinking.

"Then I think we shall get along splendidly," Dorian said with a wink. "My secrets are all you need to know."

"Perhaps they are," Victor said, almost to himself. "Perhaps they are."

**Author's Note:**

> "Basil" is Basil Hallward, the artist of Dorian's portrait in the novel.
> 
> "Resurrection men" were grave robbers in the early 19th century who provided cadavers to doctors.


End file.
